


home to oblivion

by girljustdied



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-02
Updated: 2011-10-02
Packaged: 2019-10-08 22:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girljustdied/pseuds/girljustdied
Summary: cook, effy, and car maintenance.





	home to oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was “we have to drive, it's only natural dear.”

No fucking time to learn about cars and shit. On the road. Figures. He’d pictured learning the ins and outs of it all—what speed made it purr, or made it strain and wheeze, or how far it could get on fifteen quid of petrol.

Second night in, though, Effy’s shaking. Whimpering. Jawing on about how cold she is. And maybe he’s personally feeling pretty temperate, yeah, but he can’t remember the last time Effy bothered to complain about fuck all, so he cranks on the heater and they cram into the back seat. Her arms buried under the front of his shirt, pressed up against his chest. His around her waist, underneath her jacket. They fall asleep like that. In that car, out in a field in the middle of nowhere, just the two of them.

He wakes up covered in sweat and with Effy’s mouth open and burning on his throat.

“S’hot.” He can feel her smile against his skin. “Fuck.”

“It’s like we’re in a cocoon,” her voice is dreamy and soft. “Gonna bloom.”

“What?” He feels sore and confused and hard as a rock. Digs his hands up under her shirt, fingers skidding up her spine. Calms him, sorta, don't know why.

“Shoot to the moon.” She’s laughing, she’s dragging her tongue up the line of his jaw, she’s reaching inside his trousers to palm his stiffy. “I’m cold again; it’s cold out in space, Cook.”

“Now you’re just taking the piss, peachy.” Girl’s still tripping, probably. They grind roughly in the backseat, and he can feel beads of sweat slipping uncomfortably down his back—

Don’t fucking matter. He’s got her. He’s got her under his skin. When he slips inside of her, feels like the other way around.

He tells her so. More or less. “Love—”

“Now you’re the one taking the piss,” she gasps, and clutches at him, blissed out and clenching her thighs tight around him.

Sweat drips past his eyelashes. Stings. He doesn’t try to say anything else, so it’s just all huffing and puffing after that. Him coming inside of her with a grunt when she murmurs his name into the shell of his ear. Reminds him that he’s there, see. There with her. Or maybe vice versa.

“S’perfect,” she clings to him like a fever as they drift in and out again.

“What?” he asks, because he’s not a fucking pussy.

“This.”

Her breathing is deep and even seconds after; she’s already fallen back asleep.

“Fuckin’ right it is, Eff. Fuckin’ right.”

He knew she’d see it eventually. And even though his body hurts worse than after a right good beating, and his only clothes are soaked and soiled, and they don’t have enough money to buy anymore spliff, well, he’s never been happier, yeah? Thinks he could do this forever. Him, her, the car. Always moving, always home. It's only natural.

He hums a tune against her temple until he blacks out.

When they’re finally ready to climb back up into the front and take off again, the bleeding thing won’t start. Petrol’s gone, see. From running the heat all night.

Effy snaps. It’s a sight, honestly.

“Fuck’s sake, Cook! Fucking wanker, how are we supposed to get outta here—” and she storms right out the passenger side. Slams the door shut and then kicks it for good measure.

He follows, the air freezing cold and sharp against his skin. Feels good. But everything feels good with Effy, one way or another.

“Well, now, excuse me, princess. You’re the one who wanted—”

“I was off my face—you should have known better—“

Shit like that, yeah. He backs her against the car, grips her face until she calms. Kisses her messily until her hands fist in his jumper.

“We’ll get another ride. One with a full tank. And one after that. And another. Sorted. You remember what I said, yeah? Before.”

Girl’s quiet, eyes openly studying his. Simply answers, “No.”

“All right,” he tries to follow her lead. “Too much responsibility, innit?”

“We don’t need a car to go nowhere, now do we?”

Fair enough. But he doesn’t think he’s being too thick when all he really hears there is that word that starts and ends it all: we.

Feels even sounder about the whole situation when Effy draws two tombstones on the back windshield with a tube of lipstick she’d had tucked into one of her socks. They light the seats inside on fire and take off running.

That’s about all he learned about cars.

Turns out he didn’t even learn that very well.


End file.
